The Fire In Our Blood
by tastykaromel
Summary: Centuries ago a young man named Dave dreamed about being something greater.
1. Chapter 1

Nowadays, with advanced technology and science to run the world, people tend to forget how the world used to be. They are focused on their lives and their struggles and can't comprehend how people hundreds of years ago could have lived. They know in an abstract way about the difficulty of life back then, but they do not truly comprehend it. The people of today sometimes talk about the importance of history, how it is necessary to understand the mistakes of the past so that they are not made again, but over time the historians have become selective with what is remembered, and what is not. The victors write the history books after all.

So because of a single battle, centuries ago, the people of today have no knowledge of the dragons that used to rule the sky and the riders that used to protect the land. No, people today pass by each other on the street without acknowledgment of the trials they might share as they try to get by in the vast steel jungles that now make up the world. It is possible that even if the fearsome dragons of days gone by did still fly, they could go on unnoticed, hidden from view by the skyscrapers.

But our story does not take place in the world of today, but rather in a world of many yesterdays ago. In a small village that consisted of little more than a few buildings and people. This village was surrounded by farms, as most villages are, and residing in one of these farms lived the Karofsky family.

Sire and Dam Karofsky were sensible folk, working hard their whole life to put food on the table. Their son Dave Karofsky, however, was a dreamer. There was many a day when Dave would be working in the fields and would stop and stare at nothing in particular for long passages of time. He looked rather simple while doing this, so the people of village and sometimes even his parents often teased him about not having the brains to complete a simple task without stopping in the middle to puzzle out what needed to be done next.

Dave let the others have their fun, simply because he thought he would be teased more if they knew the whole truth, that when Dave was standing in the field, staring at nothing, his mind was actually working away at full speed, concocting story after story about life outside the village and the small farm that made up his whole world.

These stories usually featured him in a role outside of his farmer's son life. Sometimes he was a sorcerer's apprentice, learning and mastering complex spells and potions. Sometimes he imagined he had been captured by an evil witch and was forced to figure out how to escape or end up dying. However, most of his stories involved the Dragon Warriors in some way.

Before she had died, Dave's grandmother had told him stories about the Dragon Warriors who protected the land from the witches and Dark Elves in the south and the giants to the north. They were often from the elite class because the training necessary was too expensive for the common man. When they were very young, nearly every child who's parents could afford it were sent to the Dragon Academy, where they learned how to care for and fly a Dragon in addition to reading and writing. However, only a select few were allowed to stay in the Academy after the age of 12. At that time, if the child hadn't shown signs of being able to bond with a dragon then they had to leave the Academy and find some other form of occupation.

But for the ones who did bond, for those select few, a whole new world opened up for them. From that point on, instead of being students, only allowed to observe the dragons from a distance and to learn what they could from books, they became trainees, where the curriculum became decidedly more hands on. Usually by the time the trainees had become 16, they had acquired a dragon of their own and for the next two years would spend as much time as possible bonding with that dragon until their minds and souls had melded to the other. When the trainee turned 18 they were inducted into the Warrior Guild.

Once a Warrior received their diploma, they were placed in groups of 4-8 Warrior/dragon pairs and each group was assigned an area of the land that they were in charge of protecting. It was a dangerous occupation, but the life expectancy of a Dragon Warrior was still often longer than the average man.

Dave's grandmother used to tell him about how no one really knew for sure why this was. Some speculated that Warriors were able to gain extra years through the bond that they had with their dragon. Some thought that Warriors were privy to complicated healing spells that were only taught during the advanced years at the Academy. Obviously, these theories are both ridiculous and the only reason Dave's grandmother had told them was because she felt Dave was too young to know the truth. There are some things children just don't need to be aware of after all.

When he grew older, many years after his grandmother had passed on, Dave learned the truth about the Dragon Warriors special abilities. It is, of course, common knowledge to all who listen that they reason Warriors can heal themselves from wounds that would kill the average man instantly is the same reason that sets them apart from other children by the age of 12; what gives them the ability to bond with dragons.

The answer is at once very complex and very simplistic; the blood of a Warrior is not the same as that of a normal human. To the naked eye, it looks the same, but if you take a measure of Warrior blood and heat it over a flame, it will change color from red to a brilliant, glowing silver; the same color as dragon's blood.

So the simple answer is that Warrior's possess blood that allows them to heal, like the dragons so they have a longer lifespan. However, no one has been able to discover why the blood was like that. At the beginning of time there was a mass genocide of non-Warriors. It was believed that Warriors were in fact a more superior species to humans. But after a few generations, it became clear that even when two Dragon Warriors reproduced, it did not guarantee a Warrior child. No matter how concentrated they kept the population, the percentage of children who became Warriors did not rise.

Not long after this failed experiment, another was attempted with disastrous results. It became a practice to have the blood of each child tested not long after they were born to see if it would turn silver when heated, indicating a Warrior. However, it seemed that none of the children born were Warriors. The people went into a panic, thinking that the Warriors had died out and eventually there would be no more left to protect the land. It wasn't until a few years later that it became known that a person who had Warrior abilities wouldn't possess the different blood until they were in their mid-teens, right around the time when they first bonded with a dragon.

Over the years, mages and priests had attempted to figure out the mystery of this change and how a person was selected to be a Warrior, but no one ever came up with a satisfactory answer. Eventually, most people stopped caring, and chalked it up to just another level of the fantastic that surrounded the Dragon Warriors and the Guild they belonged to.

You may wonder why this knowledge, vague as it is, should be deemed inappropriate for a child and you would be right in thinking that, as it is, there is nothing too shocking in its telling. But once that small piece of information is acquired, it is only natural to try and figure out the circumstances that surround it. Dave's grandmother knew that her grandson was an exceptionally curious boy and with the knowledge of the Warrior blood, would begin to ask as many questions as possible about it.

If he's grandmother refused to answer a question, then he would simply ask somebody else until he was satisfied. And when little boys start asking questions, they eventually find someone who is willing to answer them, even if it is just another child who believes themselves so worldly for knowing the answer. Eventually, Dave would have learned about how Warriors were said to have "Fire Blood," partly because of how it was transformed, but mostly because Warriors were said to be, not only the most passionate in the battlefield, but also in the bedchambers and it was often rumored that it was intense passion that was behind a Warrior's ability to heal themselves.

It was believed that Warriors were able to heal themselves only when their blood was heated and turned silver like a dragon's. And what better way to set one's blood on fire than with a couple rolls in the hay, if you'll pardon the expression. Pubs stories were told about Warriors who would select commoners during a land-leave from the fighting and would take them to bed. Warriors rarely stayed in a single place for very long, but when they moved on, their companions were said to have been ruined for any other partner. Because of these rumors, whenever a band of Warriors past through a village, it was considered something of a challenge among the unattached men and women to see who was able to catch a Warriors eye.

Many a hormonally-charged youngster would freely admit to daydreaming about such lustful imaginings and you may think that these were the thoughts that Dave fell prey to when he was standing in the field, but you would be wrong. For Dave, the appeal of the Warriors was their ability to fly. He would spend long stretches of time staring up at the skies and imagine what it would be like to soar among the clouds with the wind whistling in his ears and the strong thrum of a dragon beneath him.

If he were an elite, Dave was sure he would have been a Warrior. If only he'd had the opportunity to attend the Academy, he would have been one of the few to bond with a dragon. And oh, the bond they would have had. The mind-meld they would have would give them a great advantage over any opponent they came across and would allow them to become the greatest Pair that ever flew. Ballads would be composed in their honor of how they protected the weak and were the most just and righteous and the most beautiful young men would look at Dave like he was the answer to all their problems and –

"Oi, Dave! Are you still doing chores? You're going to make us late!"

Dave startled at the interruption into his fantasies and lost the hold he had on the hoe. He fumbled awkwardly with it for a few seconds, trying to regain his control, before gravity won out and it fell to the ground. In the process, the hoe smacked him sharply on the shin and Dave gave a small cry of pain, stumbling backward. This caused his right leg to get tangled in the vines of one of the squash plants he was weeding and he promptly fell backwards on his ass, hitting his head on a gourd.

Dave groaned in pain, but didn't try to get up. He'd probably only do himself more damage. Yes, it was better for everyone involved if he just stayed lying on the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

Dave threw an arm over his eyes to block out the sun beating down on him, but his could still hear Sam walking towards him. The footsteps stopped near him and then Dave felt a soft nudge, probably from the toe of Sam's shoe, in his side.

"You gonna just lie there? If we don't get going all the good stuff is going to be gone."

Dave groaned and lifted his arm for Sam to help pull him up. Once he was back on his feet, Dave dusted himself off as Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

"Seriously, are you alright? I thought you were looking forward to this?" Sam asked, with a genuine look of concern on his face.

"No, no, I am," Dave reassured. "I was just thinking about some stuff, you know."

"Hmm, anything in particular?" Sam asked.

"Nah," Dave said, brushing off his friend's concerns, knowing he probably wouldn't understand anyway. "Let's get going. My folks gave me this whole list of stuff they want me to get for them from the merchants and I want to make sure I still have some time to look around for myself."

If Sam noticed Dave's quick change of subject he didn't say anything about it, instead starting a story about how he'd been working some extra time at The Dog and Stallion, the local tavern, in order to save up money to buy some personal items when the merchants arrived. "I remember when they came through last autumn they had some really fancy, silk scarves. I couldn't afford one then, but I think I might have just enough money now," Sam finished.

"Seriously?" Dave questioned. "I remember those and, yeah, they were pretty, but they're also ridiculously expensive. What do you even want one for?"

He actually already had a fairly good idea what could prompt his friend to shell out so much cash, so he wasn't surprised when Sam's face flushed at the question.

"Well, you know," Sam stuttered. "It's been a while since Santana and I broke up and we've been talking a lot lately and we danced at the spring festival. I've been thinking maybe we could get back together."

Dave sighed, "Really, what is it with you and that girl? I honestly don't know why you're so hung up on her, she was nothing but mean to you when you were together and she hasn't been that much better since you broke up."

"Hey," Sam protested. "Santana's really great. Sure, she's not as sweet as some of the other village girls, but why does that have to be a bad thing?"

"I'm not saying it is a bad thing, but there's a difference between being a little feisty and being actually mean to people. Did you hear what she said to Rachel last night?"

"Oh come on, Rachel is kind of annoying."

"Yeah, she is, but those aren't the words Santana used and you know it."

Sam fell silent, his shoulders slumped and his face sullen. Dave didn't want to fight with the guy who was his only real friend, so he bumped shoulders with the blonde. "Hey, if you really want to get back with Santana, then of course I'll be happy for you. I'm just saying maybe you should wait until you two are actually back together before you spend a ton of money on her."

Sam wrinkled his nose; his tell that he was thinking hard. "You think? I really just wanted to show her that I was serious about having another go at it."

"Trust me; waiting is definitely the way to go."

By then the village was just coming into sight and by unspoken agreement, Sam and Dave ended their conversation so they could take in all the sights and sounds that signaled the traveling merchants. Since their village was small and a fair distance from any larger cities, the merchants only came through a couple times a year and whenever they did, it was like a celebration throughout the whole village.

Colorful tents and stalls would be set up to sell the goods and what a wide selection of goods there were. You could get anything you could possibly want from the merchants including tools, cloths, exotic foods, and so much more. But easily the best commodity on offer from the merchants was the news. Because the merchants spent all their lives traveling from one village to the next, they knew what was happening all around the kingdom. Often after a long day of selling goods, the merchants would head to a tavern or inn and the people of the village would buy them drinks in exchange for a story or two about what was going on outside the small sphere that made up the village.

The villagers would soak these stories up and then, after the merchants had moved on, would retell these stories again and again until the merchants returned and gave them something new to talk about. It wasn't the most ideal situation, but it worked, and Dave especially looked forward to these gatherings since each story told helped to fuel his own imagination about the outside word.

As they walked into the main center of the village where most of the merchants had set up shop, both men were a little overwhelmed by the noise all around them, being used to the general hush that usually blanketed the village. All around them there were loud voices haggling over prices and bartering, children screaming excitedly about everything they saw.

"I'm going to go make the purchases for my parents," Dave said over the noise. "Do you want to meet at the tavern later tonight?"

Sam nodded his agreement and the two parted company. Dave headed first to a distinct red and white tent that he knew belonged to Sue Sylvester, a shrewed woman who never made easy bargains, but who nonetheless sold only the finest blades, so Dave's father refused to purchase from anyone else.

Before Dave entered the tent, he schooled his expression into one he thought would give him an air of worldly knowledge. He had only been given so much money to spend and he could not allow Sylvester to talk him out of paying too much for a knife like she had last time. Dave's father had made him make up the difference with his personal savings and Dave had too many things he wanted to buy for himself to let that happen again.

Inside the tent, Sylvester was in the middle of helping another customer so while he waited, Dave perused the selection of skinning blades she had laid out. They all looked great and Dave picked up a couple to test the weight of them in his hands. By the time Sylvester had closed a deal with the other customer, Dave knew exactly which blade he wanted and how much he could afford to pay for it.

"Always good to see a returning customer," Sylvester greeted, moving in front of him.

Dave didn't reply right away, instead pretended to still be considering the pieces before him. "You've got some fine blades here this year," he finally said.

Sylvester shrugged like it was no big deal, but Dave could see the proud gleam in her eyes. "I was able to get some especially good materials from the dealers in the east this year," she said.

Dave nodded, picking up the blade he had his eye on. "I want this one." Direct and to the point, Sylvester wasn't a woman who took any pleasure out of exchanging social niceties. Sure enough, Sylvester got right down to brass tacks. "That one'll be 45 shkilds."

Dave allowed himself a quick breath, this was where he'd gone wrong last time. He hadn't even tried to barter, instead simply assuming Sylvester was giving him a good deal. He's father had been quite upset when he found out Dave had spent such an outrageous amount on that blade. Dave wouldn't make that mistake again.

"I'll give you 25," Dave countered.

Sylvester's eyes widened slightly and then she smirked, "I see someone's learned something since I last saw him. 35."

Dave licked his lips nervously, he really didn't want to go over 30 shkilds, which he thought was an appropriate price for such a blade, but he could tell Sylvester wasn't that happy about having to negotiate over the price.

"My father only gave me 30 shkilds for the blade," he finally bluffed. "But if you give me that price, I'll treat you to a couple pints at The Dog and Stallion tonight."

Sylvester cocked her head and Dave could tell she was considering it, "They have an exceptionally good brew this year," Dave hastened to add, hoping to tempt her.

It worked because Sylvester quirked a smile and said, "I do remember like their dark ale," she said. "You've got yourself a deal."

Dave did a little mental victory dance as Sylvester wrapped up the blade, congratulating himself on a job well done. A few beers might cost 2 or 3 shkilds, but since Dave was pretty close with the owners, he could probably get them for free. Not that Sylvester needed to know that. He took the wrapped package and passed over the money. After finalizing their plans to meet later, Dave headed out of the tent to finish his shopping.


End file.
